Crystal Clear
by KFielding
Summary: For all its presence in everyday life, the inhabitants of the Spiral must admit that they hardly know anything about magic. As two young wizards are sucked into a mysterious adventure and a search for answers, they discover that the real answers might, in fact, fall from the sky.
1. Summary & Info

For all its presence in everyday life, the inhabitants of the Spiral must admit that they hardly know anything about magic. Summoning spells are child's play compared to the potential power this force could hold, but they remain the most common and thoroughly explored facet of magic in every world. Why? Could it be that magic's true power cannot be grasped by even the most brilliant of the mere mortal minds? Or are these mere mortal minds reluctant to push further, for fear of what form this true power may take?

As two young wizards are sucked into a mysterious adventure and a search for answers, they find that the real answers might, in fact, fall from the sky.

Crossposted on ao3 as KFielding and tumblr as theurgistmel

Also, thanks to a sharp reviewer, I realized I forgot to mention this is a rewrite of a story I abandoned last year! It's very much a different story, though, and I actually intend to finish it this time, haha!


	2. Have Faith

"Ugh, Ange, we might as well just quit."

"Wha- Moira? We made it to the finals; why would we quit?"

The redhead stared, openmouthed, at her teammate. "Are you joking? Have you seen this?" she asked, waving her hand at the paper tacked on the wall. "We're up against Cassandra and Jonathan. They're undefeated."

"So are we."

Incredulity flooded Moira's expression as she fumbled for words. "We- no- that- that's because we've never entered a tournament before! We can't lose at something we don't do!"

"Yeah, but how do you know we won't stay undefeated? Maybe we're better than them and we just never knew because we never tried."

"I'm not even going to begin to explain everything that was wrong with that logic."

"Nothing was wrong with it!"

Ignoring the protest, Moira continued, lowering herself down on a bench and taking off her gloves. "They've been practicing for years. Years! We decided to enter this tournament on a whim yesterday. Yesterday, Ange! It's probably just sheer luck we got this far anyways."

"Uh-uh, none of that," the smaller wizard said, planting herself down on the bench next to Moira. "We got this far because we are great - awesome, even. And we are going to beat Cassandra and Jonathan because they don't know how we fight. Most people are returning competitors, so they're used to each other's styles. Meanwhile, we've got the element of surprise. It's simple logic, Moi. Trust me."

"Things rarely go well when you say 'Trust me'."

"Well probability means that it has to go well eventually, yeah?"

"I-" Moira frowned, scrunching her face up and drawing her eyebrows together in confusion. "No. That's not how it works at all."

Before she could say any more, a head poked into the room, interrupting the scattered conversations. "The match will begin soon. We need the competitors to come out. Next is Jonathan and Cassandra vs Moira and Angela."

A boy and a girl strode from the other side of the room, looking as polar opposite and cohesive as black and white. The boy was light from his hair to his eyes to his clothes - his blonde and blue and white - standing in sharp contrast to her darkness - her brown and black and purple. The girl caught Moira's eyes and called out, "Good luck," with a smirk. Before Moira could shake her captivation, they were gone. She breathed out a shaky breath, and beside her, Angela fidgeted.

"So that's Cassandra and Jonathan, huh?"

"Yeah," Moira said dumbly. "I guess so. By the spiral, how are we ever going to beat them? All they did was walk past us and I feel like they already won."

"Nah," Angela said, her voice noticeably less confident than before. "We've got this. It'll be easy. Come on: we have to go." She got up and made to walk away, but then glanced back with a mischievous smile on her face and added, "You got your deck?"

Moira scrambled to chase after the fleeing - and wildly giggling - girl, her voice ringing out in an irritated tone punctuated with stifled laughter. "That was one time, Ange! One time!"

She caught up to Angela at the edge of the stadium, skidding to a halt as she heard the announcer's voice ring through the air.

"On this side: you know 'em, you love 'em, it's Cassandra Titanwalker and Jonathan Seasong!"

Moira watched nervously as the two wizards waltzed out into the arena, confidence radiating from them as loudly as the cheers from the stands. She straightened out her cloak and checked that she did, in fact, have her deck.

"And their challengers, the diamonds in the rough: Moira Moonpyre and Angela!"

She hesitated for a moment, only setting her feet in motion when she felt Angela's shoulder brush against her own, her soft voice murmuring, "Come on, now."

In the middle of the circle, Moira shook hands with Jonathan as Angela did the same with Cassandra. They stepped back, ready to begin their battle, when the announcer's voice interjected.

"For this final round, we've got a special twist for you. This duel… will be fought tag-team style!"

Once more, the audience erupted with cheers, and though Moira could see a flicker of uncertainty flash across Jonathan's face, she felt herself shrinking back into her cloak. Pulling Angela toward her, she hissed, "Ange, what are we gonna do? We can't solo!"

Laying a hand on her chest and feigning offense, Angela whispered back, "Excuse you, but I can solo just fine, remember?"

"Of course, Ange. How could I forget that time in Dragonspyre when you went into the tower and came flying out the window?"

"Shhh- shh- no. No, we don't speak of that." Pulling back and speaking in a normal voice, she added, "It's just a tournament, Moi. Lighten up a little."

"Competitors: who will represent your teams first?" The announcer asked.

After a moment of whispered discussion, Moira stepped forward, and watched as Cassandra did the same.

"In a tag team duel, team members may switch out as many times as they like, and team members sitting on the sidelines may save up their pips and plan strategy, but only one wizard from each team may be in the ring and casting spells at once. In order to perform a legal switch, the active team member must _completely_ exit the ring or be deemed defeated before their teammate enters. Once a team member declares themself or is deemed defeated, they will not be allowed to switch back into the arena. Wizards, if you will: take your places!"

Jonathan and Angela retreated to the benches in the outer ring, while Moira and Cassandra turned and put 20 paces between them. Wands were drawn, stances were planted, and menacing glares were given (mostly by Cassandra, though).

"Let the battle commence!" shouted the announcer.

In the time it took for Moira to even form the beginnings of a plan, Cassandra sprang into action, and was next to Moira faster than she'd think was possible if she hadn't just seen it.

"Boo," she whispered, touching the tip of her wand to Moira's shoulder. A jolt of electricity sparked up the wand and into Moira, leaving her with a nasty shock as she jumped away, spinning to face the diviner. As she turned, she discovered Cassandra could disappear just as fast as she could appear, and whipped her head around once more to see her standing in the middle of the arena, a blade already floating hear her head.

Shaking her head to clear the remnants of the shock, Moira conjured a blade for herself and sent a trap to lock onto Cassandra. As she put another blade up, she saw the purple flash of a spell from the corner of her eye. A large stormzilla rose up between the two wizards, obscuring their view of each other. As the stormzilla swung its head around, searching for its target, an idea sparked in Moira's mind, and she scurried behind the storm creature to buy herself time as she waited for the pips.

Soon, flames encircled the ring, and the familiar roar of a helephant filled the room. Without a clear target, the helephant appeared confused, and walked forward for a few thundering steps before coming to a halt. Moira waved her arms, exasperated with the creature's cluelessness.

"That!" Moira shouted, pointing at the stormzilla.

The helephant lumbered around, seeming to have only noticed the stormzilla for the first time just then. Moira rolled her eyes again, and proceeded with the plan.

Jumping out of the ring, she waved Angela in, hissing as they passed each other, "Get a centaur ready… fast." Angela nodded and smiled, a familiar glint in her eyes, and Moira knew she understood the idea. Maybe they could make this tag-team thing work after all.

She watched in awe as the stormzilla and helephant battled each other, completely forgetting about the wizards in combat, and, it seemed, causing the wizards to forget about each other as well. Cassandra hadn't stopped to stare, but she certainly had become distracted enough to not notice Moira's exit. She watched from the edge of her seat, praying for Angela to be quick enough, as she knew the helephant would not remain for long with her out of the ring.

Just as the helephant began to flicker, Moira met Cassandra's gaze, giving her a smirk of her own as the diviner's mouth formed an 'O'. Just as she spun around to search for her new opponent, a centaur burst through the air where the helephant had stood not a moment before. Soon, branches bombarded her, casing her in and breaking her focus, and her stormzilla fizzled out into sparks. When the dust cleared, nothing but Angela and a beat-up Cassandra were left in the ring. Letting out a low noise reminiscent of a growl, Cassandra launched herself at Angela.

For a moment, Moira expected Cassandra to begin beating Angela down with her bare hands, but she was, unsurprisingly, wrong. Instead, a serpent burst from the tip of her wand, crackling with energy as it slithered toward Angela, snapping its jaws each time it lunged forward.

As the small girl stumbled backward to avoid the electric bite of the snake, she glanced at the cards floating to her left, finally selecting one and raising her sword to cast the spell. The snake darted forward once more, this time snapping its fangs around her leg and sending a clearly painful shock through her before disappearing. Moira flinched and watched anxiously as Angela shook her head and turned to face the music that had begun to play.

A satyr danced toward Angela, sending a healing beam her way. Moira had always loved how peaceful Angela looked while interacting with healing magic, but this time was short-lived, as Cassandra's next attack hurtled toward her within seconds. The swarm of lighting bats surrounded her, spinning a cage of electricity to close in. As the current cleared, an expression of anger had come over Angela's face. Though, Moira considered, she still didn't look that frightening, since she was approximately the size of a fire elf… okay, maybe two fire elves… stacked on top of each other in a cloak. Moira chuckled slightly at the thought, but turned her attention back to the battle as Angela recovered.

Moira could see that both girls were getting low on power, no longer exchanging spells, but rather circling each other slowly, a pained look on Angela's face and a predatory grin on Cassandra's.

Cassandra broke the circle first, flitting to the edge of the ring and swapping places with Jonathan. Like Cassandra, he sprang into action, immediately hanging a tower shield in the air in front of him. Soon after, Angela paused, planting her feet where she stood.

"No, no, what are you doing? Move!" Moira yelled, but her voice was drowned out by the screams of the audience welcoming Jonathan to the ring. Angela stayed where she was, hardly moving at all except to contort her face even more, and Moira realized Jonathan had stunned her. She clenched her fist, willing Angela to move before Jonathan could strike.

But she didn't. A large boulder of ice slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground. As the stun wore off and she had only begun to climb back to her feet when an ice beetle rammed her side, knocking her down once more. Moira jumped to her feet and only barely restrained herself from running into the ring. As much as she hated seeing Angela hurt, she knew the theurgist had weathered far worse than this and would be more upset if Moira got them disqualified.

So, instead, she just watched Jonathan beat Angela down into the ground. Every time she tried to get up, another spell, even just a little blast of ice from Jonathan's wand, would knock her down again. He was rationing his power perfectly; Moira never saw a moment when he had to wait before casting a spell.

Angela managed to grant herself a reprieve by summoning a seraph, which gave her enough time to stand up, but the victory was short-lived, as Jonathan came out virtually unscathed as his shield absorbed most of the damage. Allowing her to stumble away, Jonathan turned with a flourish of his cape, sending Cassandra back in.

Now, Cassandra certainly wasn't in the best condition, but Angela was much worse. With the same predatory smile, Cassandra cast her spell, and the arena filled with water. Moira could do nothing but look on in horror as the water crashed down on Angela, sending her into the rocks at the edge of the ring. When the ocean cleared, Angela was on the ground again, fighting to get up. From her place in the dirt, she sent a treant out, flinging her arm wildly at Cassandra. The treant's attack knocked the girl to the ground, evening the playing field. Both girls struggled to get to their feet, but when they did, Cassandra looked more than a little bit steadier than Angela. With a scowl, Cassandra switched out once more.

"Come on, Ange," Moira muttered as Jonathan approached, "just declare yourself defeated." But she knew full well that Angela would do no such thing.

To Moira's surprise, Angela did appear to be hobbling toward their side of the arena, presumably to switch out, but she stumbled and pitched forward just short of halfway, dropping her sword to catch herself. In an instant, Jonathan was upon her, bombarding her with spell after spell. As a sheet of snow blanketed the arena and an ice colossus began to take shape, a green glow began to form around Angela.

"Yes!" Moira cheered, pumping her fist in the air. _She's finally casting a spell - she's bringing it back!_ But as she cheered, the ring filled with leaves, and as they rose up, swirling with dust in a powerful wind, any view of the two dueling wizards was blocked out completely.

A strange humming and energy filled the air, causing Moira and many others to visibly cringe and a few wizards to even cover their ears. Then, quicker than it began, it ended with a loud crack, and the wind disappeared, leaving everything still except for the leaves' slow flutter to the ground. When the leaves and dust had finally cleared enough to see, Moira in a sharp gasp, running the short distance to the edge of the ring, though she was careful not to cross.

In the center of the ring, surrounded by fading leaves, lay the unmoving forms of Angela and Jonathan. Moira moved around the ring in a futile attempt to get a better look, and met up with Cassandra as she did. They shared a quick glance, and Moira could see that despite the battering the diviner had taken, she was brimming with adrenaline, and worry creased her face. As the wild cheers of the audience began to die out, they shared a nod, communicating the same thought.

They stepped into the ring at the same time, disqualifying both teams simultaneously, and ran to their respective teammates. The crowd was no longer cheering, but rather murmuring within itself, everyone asking everyone else what was happening. As they approached Angela and Jonathan, Angela suddenly seized and let out a loud gasp, her eyes flying open. Moira knelt beside her and looked on with horror, helpless as she continued to convulse and groan. Jonathan stayed silent and still. The crowd's murmurs grew louder and more frantic.

Four wizards ran out into the ring and, pushing Moira and Cassandra out of the way, scooped up Jonathan and the once again limp Angela, carrying them from the arena. Left in the middle, Moira looked over at Cassandra, who held a defeated and terrified expression. Moira had no doubts the same look was plastered on her own face.

With Cassandra in tow, she ran to follow the wizards who had taken Angela and Jonathan. As she took the final few steps out of the arena, she noticed the crowd had gone completely silent. She glanced over her shoulder and was met with dozens of faces, their expressions all mirroring her own.


	3. Fault

The room was tense with silence and the minds of the two girls fraught with panic. Against opposite walls they sat: Moira and Cassandra, the two survivors. That's what they were saying; Moira knew. She heard the whispers as the crowd exited the arena, but they all passed by her without more than a glance. No one stopped. No one asked. They didn't care. Maybe Jonathan's rabid fan club did, but she knew Angela was little more than "the other one."

Looking down, she noticed her fists had been clenched; her nails dug deep into her palms. She dragged her hands down her face and took a shaky breath. _Please be okay, Ange. Please,_ she thought.

Then she got angry again. "Come on, come on," she muttered, standing and beginning to pace. "Why hasn't anyone told us anything yet? It's been an eternity - they could at least tell me whether or not she's dead!" Her now raised voice caught the attention of a few others in the room, who gave her cautious glances or raised their eyebrows. Mumbling an apology, she sat down again, crossing her legs and bouncing her knees.

Another eternity later, a girl emerged from a closed door. Though appearing to be only slightly older than Moira, the girl's outfit bore the insignia of the Spiral Doctors United, and, Moira noticed upon closer inspection, her face bore the markings of someone who had seen many things that she could never forget. As she noticed the girl was headed her way, Moira shot to her feet, eyes wide and eyebrows turned upwards in concern.

"You're Moira Moonpyre, right?" the girl asked in a gentle voice.

"Yeah, I am. How is she?"

"Hi, Moira, I'm Grace. I need to ask about her next of kin - someone suggested you might know."

Moira blinked. The girl - Grace - hadn't even acknowledged her question. "Her next of kin?" She asked the question as though the words were foreign to her tongue.

"Yes. Can you tell us how to contact her family?"

Moira cleared her throat as she regained her focus, and replied, "She, um, she doesn't have any family." At Grace's raised eyebrows, she added, "I'm the closest thing she has to a family."

"Ah," Grace said, her gentle smile morphing into a thoughtful frown. "Come with me, then," she finished, turning on her heel and striding back to the door.

Moira followed her, and had almost escaped the stifling room when an anguished cry resounded, bouncing off the walls and breaking in her ears. On instinct, she turned, her wand out and ready, but all she found was Cassandra, half-standing and clawing feebly at another doctor's robe. With a heavy heart, Moira lowered her wand and watched the girl sob.

"No, no, no! No, you're wrong! He can't be! He can't be. He - he can't be…" Her speech quickly devolved into hiccuping murmurs as she sunk back into her chair.

"Ma'am, I'm very sorry for your loss, but I need to know how to contact his family. His parents, or yours, perhaps."

Cassandra's head lifted, her eyes bleary and her lower lip trembling. Her lips moved, but Moira was too far away to hear the whispered words. As she stared at the scene, Cassandra's eyes drifted to the left of the doctor.

"You!" she snarled, pushing past the doctor and charging at Moira. "Your stupid partner killed my cousin! She took my best friend from me; this is all her fault! This is all your fault! This is all. Your. Fault. You killed him!"

Moira stayed silent, eyes wide as a doctor detached Cassandra's hands from her shoulders. Before she could reply, Cassandra was sinking to the floor, her voice turning soft. "It's all your fault! It's all your… it's all my fault. Oh stars, it's all my fault. I killed him. I let him die. What have I done?"

Stunned by the crying heap at her feet, Moira didn't move until Grace gently tugged on her arm. "Please," she murmured, drawing Moira's attention from Cassandra, "come with me."

They traveled a hallway that seemed far too long to fit in the building, passing innumerable rooms before finally entering one. The room was bare, save for a bed, a desk, and two chairs. In the bed lay Angela, her caramel hair freed from its braids and splayed across the pillow. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing so imperceptible that Moira was sure she had died. Her theory faded as Angela seized again, her back arching and pained moans escaping her. Moira released a sigh, alleviating the pressure that had built up in her chest.

"She's not dead, then," she said to no one in particular.

Grace replied anyway. "Not yet, but she will be quite soon."

"I'm sorry?" Moira asked, her voice little more than a breath. The pressure in her chest returned.

"She's exhausted her mana; I'm sure you've heard about that."

"I thought that was a myth - a story to tell kids to teach them about using magic in moderation."

"It's rare, but very real. To wizards, mana is practically a life force. As you know, mana is used to power magic, but that doesn't just mean spells. We have magic coursing through us; magic is a part of us, and it can't live without mana." Looking forlornly at Angela, Grace added, "I don't know what she did in that arena, but it must have been immensely powerful. Using up all your mana isn't an easy thing to do. You're meant to get tired and pass out far before you're in real danger."

"She killed him."

"Hm?"

"Her opponent in the arena. He's dead. There weren't any marks on him or anything - it looked like he was sleeping. She killed him without even touching him with a spell."

Grace was silent for a moment, and when she finally spoke, all she said was, "Interesting."

"So, what about Ange, then? There's nothing you can do? She has no mana left? Can't she just drink a potion or something? Make more mana?"

"It's not that simple. Life wizards can only do so much, Moira. I've healed her injuries, but mana is another matter. When you drink a potion, it energizes the mana in you, fueling it to rapidly multiply until your mana reserves are full. But doing so requires there to be mana to multiply."

"But I've had zero mana before - everyone has. We've all fled at some point, but we just drink potions and keep going."

Grace shook her head, sending curls bouncing in every direction. "Commercial mana meters are required to display mana count at lower than it is in order to promote safe mana usage, just like health meters. When someone has such low health that they shouldn't continue and need to be revived, the meter reads zero. It's not zero, though, or they would be dead. That's why healing spells can revive wizards. So, when your mana meter reads zero, you've still got a little way to go before you pass out, and quite a long way to go before you run out completely. That's why whatever she did was so powerful - there's no way she could have stayed awake to run down her mana bit by bit, which means she had to have used it all at once. We have natural survival mechanisms, and the way our bodies react to mana is one of the best."

"But hers failed. You can't help her." Finally looking away from Angela and back to Grace, Moira steeled herself and asked, "How long does she have?"

"It depends on her strength, but no recorded case of mana deficiency has ever lived for more than a day."

"A day? Only a day? There must be some way to help her. She can't die from this."

"Moira, my narrowed field of study was mana deficiency. If anyone's ever survived it, there's no record of it. The best we've been able to do is make the passing more comfortable."

"Comfortable? She didn't look comfortable," Moira said, remembering the fit Angela had as they walked in.

"It was worse when they brought her in," Grace stated simply. "I'm sorry there's nothing we can do. She's not going to wake up, either, so you may as well say your goodbye now. I am truly sorry, Moira. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask." With a half smile and a pat on the shoulder, Grace turned to leave.

"She's one of them."

"Hm?"

"She's one of the people who fell. From the sky. Could that make any difference?"

"She is?" Grace's tone had changed in an instant, the soft and somber apologies replaced by shocked and bubbly inquisition.

"Yeah. It was years ago, when we were kids."

"And she competes in tournaments with you? She's that functional and coherent?"

"Uh, yes?"

"Fascinating. Oh, I think I'll be mourning her loss, too. I would have loved to study her."

"Study her?"

"Sorry, I know that sounds insensitive. It's just - such a high level of function in one of them is rare. I never thought I'd meet one. I've dreamed of talking to one of them - we've studied plenty of the incoherent ones, but we don't get much out of them, obviously."

"I don't think you'd get much out of her, either. She never talks about it. I asked, a long time ago, but I don't anymore. She's never even told me her last name - heck, I don't even know if Angela is her real name. She disassociates herself with everything that reminds her of it."

"Oh. Has she gone back?"

"Back?"

"To Celestia. Did she go with the students who traveled there when they found the spiral key?"

"Yeah, but she didn't stay for long. Apparently she took one look at the place and ran off. She hid in her castle for three weeks. She said it was so different - so gone."

"Have you been?"

"No. I'm not the adventuring type. She follows all those expeditions and I just stay home, tending to a garden or training pets."

"She's right. Celestia is very different. All the history books talk of it as this lush paradise - a kingdom of epic proportions. Now most of it is underwater - the entire world is flooded - and everything is in ruins. There aren't any Celestians left."

"They're all in the sky."

"That's what they say. They're all up there, just waiting to fall. None of the ones we've interviewed have been able to tell us what happened; they all just say things about the darkness."

"I always wished she'd talk to me about it," Moira said. "I guess I should have asked sooner."

"Wait here a sec," Grace said, slipping out the door. She came back with a handwritten list and handed it to Moira. "Here. These are the best books on what we know of Celestia. Ask your librarian if you can see them. It won't be the same, but maybe it'll answer some of your questions."

Moira gave Grace a grateful look, and resisted the urge to pull the girl into a hug. "Thank you."

"I have to go to other patients, but I meant what I said: anything you need. I'm really sorry about her," Grace said, and she left the room.

"Alright," Moira said, pulling a chair close to the bed and taking Angela's hand in her own, pulling it to her lips. Into the feverish skin, she whispered, "You aren't going to die. I don't know how, but I'll make sure of it. But I can't do this alone, Ange, I really can't. You have to fight with all that strength I've seen. You have to stay for me. And when you get back, you're gonna tell me all about Celestia, 'kay?"

She stood up, and, with one last look at the sleeping girl, left the room. Walking down the hallway, she whispered to herself, "I can't do this without you, Ange. I need you."


	4. Cession

"Miss Moonpyre, the library is closed now; I have to ask you to leave." Mr. Argleston's voice pierced Moira's concentration, rousing her from her books. "I'm always thrilled to see you taking an interest in the history of our spiral, but you are aware that this is a library, correct? You _are_ allowed to take the books with you."

"Gotta be here somewhere," Moira murmured, half asleep. "Gotta find it."

Reaching for a book, he suggested, "Let's get these books checked out to you and you can continue your studies in the morning. Take care of yourself; the books aren't going anywhere."

Swatting his hand away, Moira snapped, "Tomorrow might be too late."

"I've known you since you were young, and for as long as I can recall, you were always reluctant to read anything non-fiction... why the sudden interest?" Peeking at the cover of one of the books, he added, "And in medical accounts and history, of all things. Generally, it is life wizards who take up medical practice."

"I'm not a little girl any more. I have real world problems and I need real world solutions."

Mr. Argleston sighed. "Care to share what you're looking for? I do happen to know this library very well; perhaps I could be of help."

Moira turned her unfocused gaze to the librarian and murmured, "Yeah, yeah you could..." Shaking herself out of her stupor, she asked, "Where would I find accounts of mana deficiency?"

"My goodness! Why would you ever want to read about such a thing?"

"Less judging, more book-finding."

"Very well. Er, topics that serious and rare would likely be found over here, in the restricted archives." Mr. Argleston unlocked the door and ushered Moira into the shelves stuffed with crumbling parchment.

Though it all looked the same to Moira, Mr. Argleston knew exactly where to look, and in a few seconds he had pulled out a thin collection of papers."This should have most, if not all, of the accounts of mana deficiency in the past 700 years."

Moira rushed back to her desk, papers in hand. She spread them across the table and blew the remaining dust away, squinting at the faded ink.

 _Only just escaped with our lives today, but I'm not so sure Heather will keep hers. I don't know what she did, but all of the lions are gone. She screamed, and then there was a blast of fire so large and so bright that I couldn't see the edge. When it cleared, all of the lions were on the ground, their fur crisp and burnt. Heather was too. She could barely stand, even with my help, and now, on the floor of this cave, I can see the life draining from her. I've never seen a spell so powerful, and I have no way of finding out from her, for she has not been roused from this state by anything. Not healing spells, not potions, not noise, not movement, not anything. I fear she does not have long._

"What is this?" Moira demanded.

Briefly examining the page, he replied, "Ah, this would be the first recorded account of Mana Deficiency, or at least those recovered by Spiral archaeologists. As you will see, the next part of the transcription is the author's following entry."

 _The sun has not yet cleared the mountains. Our cave is dark, but I know she has gone. There is less life energy in the air. I do not think it is a sickness, for she showed no symptoms before her fire blast, and none of her symptoms have been passed on to myself. From this moment forward, my expedition continues in solitude._

"So, she didn't live. Someone must have later," Moira muttered, brushing the first paper aside.

"Live?" Mr. Argleston asked incredulously, "There's no existing record of a Mana Deficiency survivor – not even a spoken legend. Mana Deficiency is fatal."

"Just because you know where the records are doesn't mean you know everything that's in them," Moira snapped, pushing another paper aside as it proved itself fruitless to her research.

"Heather, fire: Christopher, myth; Suri, storm; Leesha, life," he listed without hesitation. "Four accounts, four different experiences, four dead; that's all you'll find in those papers. Any self-respecting connoisseurs of the Spiral's history make themselves familiar with Mana Deficiency. It is one of the most intriguing topics, for all its unsolved mystery. No one knows what gives a wizard the capability to use such a large amount of power, nor why they can only do so by using all of their mana. Many wizards have attempted to train themselves to access this other level of mana, but all have failed. It is fascinating. Why are you so interested all of a sudden?"

Moira froze. "Um, no reason. I just heard about it and didn't believe that it was fatal. I guess I was proved wrong. Sorry for wasting your time. I'll just put these away and go. Good night."

"Miss Moonpyre, you said tomorrow could be too late. What did you mean?"

"Um, nothing, that's just part of a bet. Can't talk, gotta go. Bye," she said, hastily shoving books and papers onto the shelves. Snatching her bag from a chair, she rushed out the door, her head turned to hide the tears forming in her eyes.

Moira had one last idea, but even she was doubtful. Pushing wet hair from her eyes, she opened the door to Nightside. Once inside the Death Tower, she approached the desk, stepping loudly to make her presence known to the figure cloaked in black. "My name is Moira MoonPyre. I'm begging you -you have to help me. I need to stop my friend from dying."

"Prevent death?" The figure asked, keeping their back to Moira. "Why would you approach me about this? Surely a theurgist would be better suited to your needs. Necromancers deal in the affairs of the dead."

"Please," Moira repeated, "the theurgists say she is as good as promised to death. They say there is nothing they can do to help her. I need to get her un-promised to death. Everyone knows you help those who are desperate. Everyone knows to go to Laura Skycoin."

Laura turned, the hood falling back from her head and pooling at her shoulders with her bone-white hair. "Are you asking me to cheat death? No one has the ability to do that. Did you learn nothing from Malistaire's voyage of terror?" she asked with fury in her eyes.

"But she's my friend..." Moira protested.

"And Sylvia was Malistaire's love. Death cedes to no one. I am sorry about your friend, but if she is too far gone, she is too far gone. There's no changing it."

Moira pleaded, "No, there must be a way! She's my friend!"

"You've made that quite clear." She turned back to the wall, pulling her hood up once more. "Leave me."

"I'll do anything. She doesn't deserve this."

"Have you not heard a thing I've said? Death cedes to _no one_. I don't perform miracles - just facsimiles of them. Sometimes there are things no amount of magic can fix."

"But that's just it: all she needs is a little magic. She's out of mana - why is it so hard just to give her more?"

Laura's head turned slightly - just enough for Moira to see a saddened profile silhouetted by candlelight. "What?"

"She's out of mana. They're calling it Mana Deficiency. It's a really rare thing; I read that there were only four-"

"I know what it is."

"Y-you do? Sorry, I just assumed-"

"You assumed wrong."

"So you've researched it, too? Why were you interested? Did you maybe find some clue to a cure that I missed?" Moira asked with a hesitant chuckle. "Because they say there's nothing, but, I mean, there must be…"

"You read the accounts."

"Come on, though. How can that be it? How can there be nothing?"

"I didn't say that."

"But-"

"I wasn't answering that question. You say you read the accounts. How closely?"

"I mean, I read the first one - er, Heather - but I didn't get a chance to read the others in detail. Mr. Argleston told me that Heather was a pyromancer, Christopher was a conjuror, Suri was a diviner, I think, and Leesha was, uh…"

"A theurgist," Laura supplied, turning back to face Moira. "And yours?"

"What?"

"Your friend."

"Oh, uh, Angela is also a theurgist."

"What did she do?"

"She… I don't really know. She was in a tournament, all these leaves obscured our view, and then she and her opponent were unconscious in the ring. Her opponent was, uh, dead, actually."

"She attacked?"

"I don't - yes? I guess so."

"Huh."

"Why are you asking me these things? What got you so interested in Mana Deficiency?"

"If you'd read the accounts, you'd have noticed the authors' names. Heather's friend was named Julia, Christopher's was Alex, Suri's was Bradley, and Leesha's -" she leaned back against the desk - "was Laura."

"You mean..?"

"Yes. I know what Mana Deficiency can do. I couldn't even watch her die; I turned my back because I just couldn't watch that. Fair enough, I suppose, since she couldn't watch me die, either. That's what got her into that mess. I was hurt - like dead in less than a minute hurt - and she healed me."

"And that took all her mana?"

"She brought me back from the brink of death and then some. Do you know how old I am, Moira?"

Moira shook her head. "I mean, you don't seem much older than me."

"I am over a hundred years old. I don't look it, do I? It seems that whatever Leesha did, the healing just kept on going. It's a bit ironic, isn't it? A necromancer becomes the furthest from death anyone has ever been."

"So she healed you, but there was nothing you could do for her? None of your miracles worked?"

"I wasn't Laura Skycoin back then. Skycoin - and the 'miracles' you associate with that name - came later. I wanted to figure out if I could have saved her - if I could save anyone else it happened to - so I started studying. And then, quickly enough, I discovered I was going to be around for a pretty long time, and I figured branching out into easier things would be a better use of my time."

"So you never found anything? There's really no cure."

Laura took a deep breath, her eyes raking over Moira. "There might be. I came up with one, but I've no idea if it works - no one to test it on until now."

"Please tell me. I'll pay anything."

"I don't want your money. And I don't know if this is a good idea."

"It's her only chance."

"It could kill you."

"Angela dying would kill me. She's my best friend. I love her."

Laura took another deep breath, looking at the ceiling. "I have called upon spirits, sought out the great mysteries of the Spiral, and entered the realm of the dead while still coming back to speak of it. I have fielded thousands of problems and offered hundreds of solutions only I knew of. And yet in all that time, I have never had anyone come to me and beg for their own death."

"I'm not really asking for that."

"You're asking for something that will most likely end with either you or your friend alive. Not both. I hate to say it, but I'm really not optimistic that it's a cure at all. I don't have quite that level of confidence in myself."

"I do. And I'm willing to try it. No guilt on your part, okay? You warned me, and I did it despite knowing the risks. If it goes wrong, it won't be your fault."

Laura was silent.

"Please."

Another deep breath.

And then, "Okay."

Moira beamed.

"Okay," Laura repeated. "But on one condition."

"Anything."

"You'll need to find someone else to do it. I'll give you the spell, but I am not going to perform it."

"Why?"

"Do you want the spell or not?"

"Yes, yes, sorry."

Laura turned and plucked the quill from it's inkpot on the desk and quickly scribbled on a scrap of paper. "Here," she said, holding the paper out to Moira. "Have them say these words while focusing on a link between you and your friend - hold hands or something. The pronunciation shouldn't be too hard."

 _Ki cate inu tiro oi oe kiro pelu non lonuru napofnu. Jukate oe rukiro. Aitete naheinu oe nama kioua i kioua, kiro i kiro, chate ven yaiki, chate kiloe i kiloe._

"I don't know about that pronunciation thing. What language even is this?"

"It's the language of the old Spiral. It's how they cast spells before realizing how powerful visualisation was. Have you really never even heard of it?"

"Not once."

"Fair enough. No one uses it anymore - at least not anyone that communicates with the world. I'm sure Ambrose and others around his age can speak some, but it's a dead language. I learned it in my studies to see if there was power hidden in the world that only words could unlock."

"And is there?"

"Oh, certainly. Where do you think my miracles come from?"

"Of course… but, seriously, though, how do you pronounce this? Can you say it out loud without it doing… whatever it is that it does?"

"Yes. Concentration is a big part of it. But, seeing as you're not the one to say it, perhaps I'd better just write it down."

A moment later, she had handed Moira another slip of paper, and nodded her head at the door, where another wizard had entered. "You'd better get going, Moira," she said. "We've both got things to be doing."

Moira teleported back to the Commons, unwilling to risk the precious ink under the waterfall, and she dashed back to the sprawling campus of Spiral Doctors United - papers in hand and rekindled hope in her heart.


	5. Mana

"Grace!" Moira called as she burst through the door to the medical center. A quiet apology soon followed as Moira felt the stare of every person in the otherwise quiet room. She shuffled past the counter and into the hallways, unsure if she was meant to simply walk back there, but, since no one stopped her, she picked up her pace with renewed vigor, peeking into every open door in search of the doctor.

Finally, Grace exited a room, gently shutting the door behind her. "Moira, what is going on? You're yelling loud enough to wake the dead."

"I got it. I got a cure."

"What?"

"For Ange. I have a cure for mana deficiency."

"Where in the Spiral could you have possibly gotten that? And so fast? It hasn't even been twelve hours, and doctors have been researching this for at least a century."

"They just didn't know where to look—didn't know the right people. Look, though," Moira replied, waving the paper in front of Grace. "It's right here. Or, well, I hope it's here. It's untested... for obvious reasons."

Grace snatched the paper with two fingers, scanning it carefully. "The right people? Untested? Moira, where did you get this? It sounds really sketchy."

"No, no, it's good. Laura Skycoin gave it to me."

"Who?"

"Laura... have you never heard of Laura Skycoin? She's the miracle worker."

"There's no such thing as miracles. If you want results, you have to work hard for them. If magic gave us miracles, I'd never have to tell people their loved ones died. So, no, I don't know who that is, and I don't trust her 'miracles'."

"Please? What's the worst that could happen? You told me Angela is going to die, so what's the harm in trying the spell? If it doesn't work, she dies, just like she was going to. But if it does… if it does, Grace. Please. I'm begging you."

"Why are you begging me? Why not just go into her room and do it?"

"Laura told me someone else has to perform the spell. She said the person has to focus on a link between me and Ange."

"No. No way. That's even sketchier than before. Did she tell you what the spell would do? Why do you two have to be linked somehow? That sounds like a recipe for getting yourself killed along with Angela. The doctors have done what we can, and your friend isn't coming back just because you bought a miracle from someone. I'm sorry, but you got conned."

"No, I didn't pay for it. She didn't even want to give it to me—"

"Oh, so you stole it! That makes everything better."

"No! She gave it to me because I said I wanted to test it. She wasn't sure if it worked and didn't want the guilt if it didn't."

"Oh, there's guilt involved?" After a glance from a passerby, Grace lowered her voice to a hiss. "You're really making this sound more appealing by the minute."

"Please. This is Angela's only hope."

"How about instead of chasing farfetched solutions, you go say a proper goodbye?"

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because then it's real. I don't want it to be real." Moira's voice came out quieter than she had expected.

Grace's expression softened. "Moira, I know this is difficult for you. So... how about... if you can find someone else to perform the spell, I won't stop you from doing it. As long as I'm not involved, you can make the attempt to save her. I've already got one girl who's going to die under my care; I can't make it two."

Letting out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, Moira gave Grace a small nod before turning to leave the building again.

* * *

Upon entering the death tower, Moira instantly called out, "Hey, Laura? Can I just cast this spell myself? Like, does it really need to be another person?"

When no reply came, she looked around, registering the absence of the necromancer. "Oh," she murmured to herself. Shrugging, she said, "Well, what's the harm in trying?"

* * *

When Moira passed Grace again in that impossibly long hallway, she faltered in her step, expecting Grace to say something. But the doctor simply gave her a strange glance—like a mixture of knowledge and pity and fear—and continued walking.

Despite knowing what to expect, Moira felt physically hurt when she opened the door to Angela's room. The theurgist was thin, frail, and far too pale for her usual bubbly presence, and her lack of movement only made Moira's heart sink more.

"I'm here, Ange," she said, slipping one of the girl's cold hands into her own. "I'm gonna fix this."

She settled into the chair beside the bed, gripping Angela's hand tighter as she unraveled the paper. After reading over the pronunciation several times, Moira focused everything on where her hand was clasped around Angela's. Every fiber of her being and every sense she had was locked onto the feel of the limp hand in her grip. She began to read the words, calling upon the depths of her being where her own mana resided.

"Ki cate inu tiro oi oe kiro pelu non lonuru napofnu."

She squeezed Angela's hand even tighter.

"Jukate oe rukiro. Aitete naheinu oe nama kioua i kioua, kiro i kiro."

The world seemed to grow dark at the edges, and Moira felt as though there was nothing but Angela's hand chaining her from floating away.

"Chate ven yaiki, chate kiloe i kiloe."

The darkness swarmed.

* * *

Someone was stroking her hair. Moira opened her eyes to the familiar sensation, and found her face pressed against something soft. Lifting her head, she realized she had been asleep on the edge of Angela's bed.

 _Angela._

Moira whipped her head around to find that the stroking hand belonged to a gaunt Angela, who, despite looking like death itself, had a smile on her face. Moira bolted upright. "Angela!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her. "Oh, Ange, it worked. It worked!"

With a raspy voice, Angela whispered, "I have no idea what you're talking about, but yes, I suppose it did."

Moira pulled away and stared at the girl. She stared longer than she should have, but she couldn't help it. Just yesterday, she was worried she would never see those bright eyes or that wide smile again. Waking from her trance, she jumped up, threw open the door, and called out, "Grace! Grace, it worked! She's alive! I'm alive! It worked!" She didn't see Grace in the immediate vicinity, and she received more than a few stares from doctors and wizards that were, but the joy bubbling in her chest made her indifferent.

Grace came bustling down the hall a few seconds later and ushered Moira into an empty room before shutting the door. "I know. I was right outside, waiting to see what happened. Angela woke up almost immediately after the spell was finished. You, on the other hand, were out like a candle in a rainstorm. I was afraid you wouldn't wake up."

"Aren't you excited, though? There's a cure for mana deficiency! We can tell the world and you can be famous! I'll let you take credit for it," Moira said with a wink.

Grace shook her head. "We're not going to tell anyone that doesn't absolutely need to know."

Moira's face fell. "What? What do you mean?"

"Look, if word gets out that using that much power isn't fatal, there's nothing stopping people from really trying. All those wizards trying to train themselves to access more power, for example: they never could do it because they were being too careful. You know, so they didn't die. But if this goes public, they won't have that to fear, and people will either master it like they intend, or get used to using that amount of power on a regular basis. After all, why not? The doctors will just cure them, right? No, it's better left alone. It doesn't happen that often, so people won't really get suspicious if we use the cure in cases like Angela's, where it was truly an accidental use of power. She's only the fifth case in 700 years; it'll be easy to leave the cases out of the records. You can't tell anyone about this. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't understand. Why is it a bad thing to have wizards training themselves to be more powerful? We could rid the Spiral of evil much easier, and maybe people will start to build up a mana tolerance, and eventually they'll be able to do it without using fatal amounts of mana. It's a win for everyone!"

"It's not a win, and I'm not so sure this was a solution, either. What I saw when you did the spell… I thought for a second that you had somehow taken her place. There was this rush of energy, and Angela sprang right to life. She looked as though she had never even been ill. You looked like you were on the brink of death."

"But I'm fine. We're both fine."

"Yes, only after some of that energy drained back away from Angela. Even when you passed out, you wouldn't let go of her hand, and I could practically see mana flowing across that link. I think that's why there had to be a link to focus on. I think you were literally just giving her mana, and that's a dangerous thing."

"But we're both fine! How can it be dangerous?"

"Okay, this is all based on medical theory and thoughts I've had since the time you cast that spell, but just hear me out. Mana isn't like water. It's not the same, and it doesn't mix well. She had no mana left. None. That's why she couldn't just use a potion: there was no mana left to multiply. You put your mana in her body, but her body isn't used to your mana because everyone's mana is different. Right now, her body is using up large amounts of mana to stay alive, effectively killing itself in the process. Our bodies don't do that. We use the teeniest, tiniest amounts to live–amounts so small that the mana replenishes itself just as fast. She's using up mana faster than it regenerates because her body doesn't understand how to make more of this new mana yet. I'd give her about a week before she's critical again."

"A week? So, what? I just do the spell again in a week? Do I have to do that forever? I mean, I will if I have to, but I just want to know."

"No. You don't do it again. You got lucky once, and now she's alive and relatively well, and we can figure something else out. It's too dangerous to keep doing it. This has never been done before, so we have no idea what could happen. I'm just going off basic biology here, but the point is that she's going to be growing weaker because her body is producing mana that clashes with the existing mana, which isn't good for anyone. If we can figure out a way to amp up her own mana production, she should be able to overpower your mana and get back to normal."

"If? Should? These aren't comforting words."

"I don't know what to tell you, then," Grace hissed. "You are not doing that spell again."

"Fine," Moira lied.

"Then you won't mind my ripping up this paper," Grace replied, pulling out a thin strip of parchment from her pocket and shredding it between her fingers. Moira recognized it as the spell and reached for it, but it was gone by the time her arm had even moved.

"Hey!"

"You said you wouldn't do it again, so what do you need the paper for?"

Moira didn't reply.

"That's what I thought. Look, just go enjoy having your friend back. We'll try to figure something out; I've got a team that I can trust with the mana deficiency secret."

"Okay, okay, but tell me one thing. If her body is using my mana, is she going to turn into a pyromancer? Isn't our school of magic infused into us or something like that?"

"Oh, no; magic aptitude doesn't interact with mana. We're not even sure if that's strictly biological. No one's ever figured out why wizards are more powerful with one school of magic over the others; we just are," Grace replied with a shrug. "Look, I've got to go, but come find me in a few days and I should be able to tell you who will be in charge of the treatment plan if we get her to live past a week."

"It won't be you?"

"I'm part of Spiral Doctors United. We travel. I may not even be here in a week. Sorry, I've really got to go. I'll see you later!" she said, disappearing from view.

Moira sighed and reentered Angela's room. Angela was still sat patiently in bed, her eyebrows slightly raised. "What was all that about? You were gone for quite a while. And what did you mean by, 'It worked'?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it; just get some rest."

"Whatever you say, Mom," Angela replied, rolling her eyes.

Moira sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the wall as she put an arm around Angela. The girl was warm—so blissfully warm and so far from the cold of earlier. Moira smiled and shifted down in the bed so Angela was forced to lie down. She reversed their roles and began to stroke Angela's hair. At Angela's quiet protests and small movements, Moira flicked her once before continuing to comb through the soft locks. "Sleep, stupid," she murmured.

"Fine, but you sleep, too," Angela replied, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders and snuggling into the pillow.

"Anything you say, princess," Moira chuckled.


	6. Plans

Moira opened her eyes to the sound of hushed voices. She blinked, peering around the room, but, being unable to find anyone, turned her attention to the door, which was slightly cracked open. Carefully extracting her arm from the sleeping Angela's embrace, she crept over and peeked through the opening, blinking once more at what she saw. Headmaster Ambrose was deep in conversation with Grace, and neither of the two looked happy.

"I really don't think she's strong enough yet," Grace said. "She needs to stay and rest more, and we… we don't even know if she's entirely okay. It would be dangerous for her _—_ "

"The people are unsettled _—_ outraged, confused, frightened—she needs to leave."

Moira stifled a gasp, pressing her hand to her face as her eyebrows knit together. _What is he talking about?_

"Going anywhere is the last thing she needs to be doing right now. The people can deal with it; she can't hurt anyone in her condition, anyways."

"Can you be sure of that? From the whispers floating around Wizard City, she was quite worse for wear when it happened during the tournament."

"But she's not going anywhere. She's staying here. The only people she'd be able to hurt are those who go into her room."

"So, any doctor? What of her family? Friends? We don't know what she's capable of. Her power could extend far beyond her room—"

"Our rooms are magic-proof."

"What she did was something we haven't seen before—"

"But we have seen it! She showed all the signs of mana deficiency. Whatever she did was just as powerful as the magic in the historical accounts."

"Then it would stand to reason that it is far more powerful than the wards placed on this building. Not to mention the fact that she survived implies she is stronger than any wizard in the accounts."

Grace buried her fingers in her hair, sighing. "I can't just let you send her away. I have a duty as a doctor to keep my patients safe."

"You could accompany her."

 _If anyone's accompanying her anywhere, it's me, not her!_

"She isn't my only patient. I've just received an assignment in Zafaria—I have to wrap up my work here." Grace's frantic gestures revealed a state Moira hadn't seen from the girl before: stress. "I have other responsibilities; I can't just—"

"Then we are at an impasse. Given the circumstances, I cannot simply overlook her."

Grace's hands drifted upwards, gravitating toward her hair again, but she opted to simply take a deep breath and drop them back to their sides. "I don't know, then. At least… don't wake her up; let her rest. Come back later. Please." The last word was added on seemingly as an afterthought, but there was a genuine pleading behind the soft tone, and Moira thanked every star she could think of for sending Grace as Angela's nurse.

"Very well. I will return later, but eventually, she must go."

Grace dipped her head, her eyes lingering on the floor for a moment. "Yeah," she said, barely above a whisper as the headmaster walked away. As her eyes rose back up, she caught Moira's through the crack in the door, and strode toward the room. Moira scrambled back, trying to leap into the bedside chair and look inconspicuous, but likely only looking more conspicuous in doing so. When the door opened, she was awkwardly draped across the small chair, one leg thrown over the armrest and the other foot brushing against the floor while her arms struggled to find a natural position.

"Hey, Grace," Moira said, trying not to cringe at her noticeably higher tone. "What's, uh, what's up?"

"Moira, I know you were listening."

Moira stood up, her neck cracking in relief from its newly non-awkward position. Her face, however, remained a painfully forced smile as she tried to suss out Grace's emotions.

"Moira, I don't care that you were listening; I just want to know how much you heard."

"Enough."

"Wow, that's not cryptic at all," Grace said. "I'm still on your side. Or did you not hear that bit?"

"What does he want?"

"To send her away. He says the people of the city are scared because of what happened with Jonathan."

"Send her where, though? Does he even have a plan?"

"It's Merle Ambrose, Moira; he always has a plan."

"I don't believe that for a second, and neither do you. He's scared, too, and scared people don't have plans."

Grace raised an eyebrow, but there was a look of curiosity behind the exasperated eyes. "What makes you think he's scared?"

"Why else would it be so urgent? You both admitted you have no idea how powerful she is. Everyone fears the unknown."

"Maybe he wants her out for her own safety as well as others'. Maybe he wants her out quickly so he can start working on a solution without having to worry for her safety—Moira, what?"

Grace had cut herself off at Moira's shaking head. Stepping closer, Moira lowered her voice to a whisper, as though the subject of their conversation could still hear them. "I don't think the headmaster worries for anyone's safety."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Think about it. He sends students on life-threatening expeditions to save the Spiral, and what do they get in return? Nothing. It's like—"

"Moira," Grace said gently," I think you're losing sight of your point."

"I just… why does she need to go anywhere? Angela would never hurt anyone."

"She did, though."

"Not on purpose!"

"Well, maybe that's why she _does_ need to be sent away. What if she hurts someone else by accident?"

"You're agreeing with him?"

"I'm keeping people safe," Grace snapped, "because that is my job. I know this is stressful for you, but sometimes that's how life is. You can't fight it, anyways. Whatever he decides is what's going to happen."

Moira faltered, taken aback by the doctor's sudden ferocity. Without her reply, the room fell silent, save for Angela's quiet breathing. It was a miracle, by Moira's standards, that the girl hadn't woken up amidst the argument. The two wizards stood cloaked in the silence for a few moments, both waiting for Moira to say something. When she finally did speak, the words that came out of her mouth were not what either had expected.

"I'm scared."

"Of?"

"Not of. For. I'm scared for her. Whatever happens, she'll be alone. Maybe not _alone_ alone, but she won't have me. She's always had me—ever since she came here. She needs _someone_. It… it doesn't even have to be me, but she needs someone. Do you remember how I said she couldn't go back to Celestia?"

Grace nodded. "You said she hid in her castle for weeks."

"Yeah, and I don't know how long she would have stayed if I hadn't been there for her. For three weeks, I visited her every day and talked to her. For the first week, she didn't even talk back. I just sat with her, telling her about whatever was going on with my family, with the city, with anything and everything. And once, after she finally started replying, I mentioned an update the expedition had sent from Celestia, and she regressed all over again. So I just stayed. I made her get up and walk around and do literally anything other than sit there. I kept talking to her, making sure to steer clear of Celestia. It was slow and painful for both of us, but we got through it together. What would have happened if I hadn't been there for her? What's going to happen if I'm not there for her wherever he sends her?"

Grace opened her mouth, but no words emerged before she shut it again and pulled Moira into a hug.

"I—what are you doing?"

"My job is to care for people. You're doing an awful lot of caring right now, but it seems like you've got no one to care for you."

"I… thank you," Moira said, tentatively bringing her arms around Grace. "I…"

"You don't have to say anything. I know."

"Hey," a voice rasped from beside them. "Don't I get a hug?"

Moira and Grace broke apart, laughter trickling past their lips as they turned to Angela, who was now propped up on one elbow. The laughter petered out, however, as their eyes tracked over Angela's face. The girl looked even more tired than she had when she fell asleep, if that was even possible. The circles under her eyes had darkened and spread, seeming themselves almost bigger than her eyes.

"Hey," Moira breathed, brushing a lock of hair back from Angela's face. "How are you feeling?"

"Better…" At Moira's raised eyebrows, Angela continued, "a little… okay maybe not much… or… at all…"

"Worse?" Grace offered.

Angela just nodded. "I feel like I haven't slept in a week."

"We figured as much. One moment." Grace slipped out the door only to return moments later with a small flask of swirling purple liquid. "Try a potion. If we're lucky, you should start feeling better almost instantly. If not, well… let's hope."

With Moira's help, Angela sat up fully, leaning against the wall to support herself, took the potion, and tipped it into her mouth. She grimaced. "That tastes worse than usual."

No apology given or even remotely implied, Grace took the cup back with a wry smile. "It's a stronger version we use to get boosted results. Fills your health and mana like a regular one, but it also gives you a little adrenaline rush."

"Well, I'm certainly feeling something."

Grace's expression brightened. "That's good! That means your healing process is kicking into gear. Or it means you're dying, but it's probably the first one."

Moira took a chance and lightly smacked Grace in the back of the head. "Didn't they ever teach you not to say things like that?"

Seeming not to mind the mild assault, Grace simply continued to speak to Angela. "Are you continuing to—"

She was cut off by a sharp gasp from Angela, who doubled over in the bed. Both Moira and Grace rushed to her side, which was, in itself, an impressive feat, considering they were both within a mere two steps of the girl—hardly enough room to rush, by most standards.

"What is it?" Grace asked at the same time Moira said, "Ange, what's wrong?"

"I—I don't know, it just," she sucked in another sharp breath, "it just feels wrong."

Grace pulled a small vial from the pouch at her hip and held it to Angela's lips. "Here, drink this."

Angela did as she was told and within a minute was sinking back down into the bed, her eyelids drooping.

"What was that?" Moira demanded.

"A sedative. My best guess is that your mana is reacting badly with her body. The only thing to do at this point is ride it out, and she might as well be unconscious for that."

"So, what? It's not working?"

"I told you: mana doesn't mix. There's no telling what putting your mana in her body is going to do. The potion certainly gave her more mana, but as soon as her body tried to use it to function, the discrepancy caught and everything just sort of… failed. She's shutting down. I can keep trying, but I don't know what's going to work, if anything."

Moira rubbed a hand down her face, letting out a long sigh. "Okay, what about Headmaster Ambrose? He wants to send her away and she can't even sit up."

"Also an advantage of the sedative. I told him she becomes his responsibility if he comes back and she's awake. So, theoretically, as long as she isn't awake…"

"You want to put my best friend in a coma?"

"Not a real coma."

"Oh, that makes it better."

"Moira, listen. I'm not your enemy here. Honestly, you don't have enemies, okay? People don't just have enemies. Sure, there are your evil forces trying to destroy the spiral, but they aren't anyone's personal enemy. Most of the time, people are trying to help you, like I am right now."

"Sorry, I'm just… sorry. What's your plan?"

"I don't really have one. But, the longer she sleeps, the more time we have."

"And in the meantime?"

"I didn't think I'd be saying this, but if you've got another one of those miracles, it might be time to use it."

Moira perked up. "You mean like the spell? Should I do it again?" she asked, gripping Angela's hand in preparation.

"No!" Grace swatted her hand away. "I told you to never do it again, and I stand by it. That was wildly unpredictable magic. You don't need to be messing with that."

"Okay, I mean, I could go talk to Laura again, just to see if she has anything."

Grace gave a curt nod. "Yeah, yeah, that'd be good. Just be careful. Don't take any more experimental spells from her. It may have worked once, but that was still ridiculously reckless."

"Got it, boss."

"Don't ever call me that again."

"Sorry."


	7. Energy

After a brief and mostly unsuccessful trip to Laura's tower—once again, the necromancer was nowhere to be found, so Moira simply left a note to thank her—Moira returned to Angela's room, only to nearly run into the back of Headmaster Ambrose. She reeled back, catching herself on the doorframe. The headmaster did not notice, or rather, he did not react, to Moira's presence.

"As you can understand, the circumstances put us in quite a predicament, Miss Seahaven—"

 _Seahaven?!_

"—and I have decided the best course of action is to send you to those who may have an idea of what we're dealing with. Arrangements have been made for travel this evening."

Before Angela could reply, Moira burst out, "This evening? _This evening?_ Are you insane?"

"Moira—" Angela tried to interrupt.

"She almost died!" Moira continued.

"Another wizard _did_ die, Miss..?" The headmaster raised his eyebrows in silent inquisition.

Moira swallowed her words and spit out a bitter, "Moonpyre, sir."

"The people are afraid. They are outraged. This is as much for Miss Seahaven's safety as it is for theirs."

"You can't just—"

"Moira," the scratchy voice of Angela came once again, sounding as tired as before. Moira blinked twice, fully registering Angela's awake presence for the first time. "It's okay. I'll go where he wants."

"You can't do this!" Moira cried, striding to her friend's side. "You have to give her… a trial! Or something… you can't just…"

"Moira, don't," Angela said, reaching out and resting a hand on her arm. Moira looked down at her in shock. "It's okay," Angela reassured her. "I'll be okay."

"But..." Moira began. _No, you won't be. Not without me._ She turned to the headmaster again. "Is she just going to be alone?"

"Not at all. She will be with the monks deep in the Cave of Solitude. They take in troubled wizards and help to restore their minds. They have done it before with wizards of her background."

"What do you mean by 'her background'? I—whatever. Her mind is fine. It doesn't need restoring. She didn't do this on purpose. She isn't dangerous."

"It is precisely the fact that she did not intend for the death to happen that makes her so dangerous. The accidental use of so much power coupled with her Celestian background is a recipe for disaster if not handled properly. She could kill again without meaning to. The monks will help her master her emotions and mind."

"She can master it here."

"Moira—"

"She will not pose a danger to anyone in the Cave of Solitude. The monks are well-equipped. It is the better decision."

"Do I get a—"

"No, keeping her here is the better decision because she'll be with people she knows and trusts."

"Miss Moonpyre, this is hardly a matter of your—"

"Hey!" a broken yell interjected. Everyone in the room turned to Angela, who had shifted to her knees and was waving her arms. "Since this is about me, could I maybe get a word in?"

No one spoke.

Angela turned to Moira. "Moi, I know it's hard, but it's fine. I'll go. I'm not needed here, and maybe he's right. What if I do that again? What if I do that to you?" Turning to the headmaster, she added. "This evening? Do I get to bring anything?"

"A Wizard City guard will escort you first to your castle and then to the World Tree."

"Thank you."

After the headmaster had left and Moira had shut the door behind him, she spun to face Angela and exclaimed, "What in the name of the Spiral are you thinking? You don't deserve this! Why aren't you fighting this? The Ange I know would."

Angela had sunk back into the bed, her back hunched with the effort of keeping herself up after her outburst. She looked up and replied calmly, "Sometimes in life, you have to accept responsibility for your actions."

"And you choose now to start doing that?" Moira's tone was annoyed but her heart was hurting, torn between wanting to reach out for her friend and wanting to stay angry.

"Hey, watch it. I am leaving tonight, after all."

"You don't have to. I could hide you at my castle," Moira suggested halfheartedly.

Angela let out a weak laugh. "I don't think I could handle living in your castle forever, which is approximately how long it'd take to train myself without the monks' help."

"Ange, you don't have to learn to control yourself; there's nothing wrong with you! It was a freak accident, and freak accidents don't happen more than once."

"Moira, when did you become the one to defy authority? I'll be fine. You'll be fine. We will all be fine. I'm going: end of story."

Defeated by the girl's weak appearance and soft tone, Moira didn't protest. Granted, she didn't agree, either. Instead, she silently sat down next to Angela and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in for a half-hug. "I could come with you."

"Moi, as much as I love you, please shut up."

Moira laughed, shaking her head as she squeezed the girl tighter. "You know I'll never do that."

Contrary to Moira's words, the pair sat in silence for a while, their breathing falling in sync. After a long time, Angela spoke.

"Moi?"

"Hmm?"

"I know I said I'd be fine, but… what if I'm not? What if Ambrose was right about my Celestian background being an added risk? What if I'm turning out like them?"

Moira didn't speak, her mind flitting back to all the things she'd learned about Celestia ever since her family had taken Angela in. She certainly hadn't been the first person to fall from the sky, and Moira had a feeling she wasn't the most recent, either. The thing that had made Angela so special was that she was, for the most part, normal.

Moira had forced her parents to take her to the library day after day to retrieve the latest news on anything Celestia related. It was how she had first gotten to know Mr. Argleston. Each time they shuffled in, Moira clinging shyly to her father's cape, he would smile at her and crack a joke, even though she never replied. In retrospect, he probably hadn't ever figured that the newspapers were for her and not her parents.

She remembered reading about the wizards who had crashed down, mysteriously falling from skies all over the Spiral. She remembered asking Angela about it, the already silent girl seeming to fall even more silent when she brought up the lost world. And she remembered reading about the fallen wizards and their broken minds. All of them, no matter where they ended up, could not shed any light on the situation. Some were simply silent, refusing to utter even the slightest clue as to their identity or story. Others were driven mad, with no one able to make heads or tails of their ramblings. Others still were catatonic, completely unresponsive to the world, even after their physical wounds were long since healed.

Moira remembered being afraid that Angela would fall into the first category. After all, for weeks they had only been able to refer to her as 'kid', 'kiddo', 'honey', or whatever other comforting pet name they could think of. Finally, long after Moira had stopped asking her about Celestia, the small girl had uttered her name late at night in the room they shared.

 _"Angela." The girl said, her green eyes shining in the light of the desk lantern._

 _Moira turned from her bed to stare at her, startled by the voice from the other side of the nearly dark room. "What?" she breathed._

 _"My name is Angela. You don't have to call me 'pal' anymore."_

 _Eyes still wide and mind reeling, Moira couldn't think of anything to do but amend her earlier statement. "Good night, Angela," she said._

 _"Good night, Moira."_

Of all of Moira's memories of Angela, that was the strongest. The joy and relief her heart felt as she realized this girl wasn't broken like the others was unrivaled at any point in her life. Or, it had been, in the past. If asked to choose now, Moira wasn't sure which moment she'd name as the winner: that night, or when she met Angela's eyes after waking up from Laura's spell. She pondered on it for a moment, but ultimately decided it was a choice she'd never have to make, anyways.

Pulling herself back to the present, she realized Angela was still looking at her, expecting an answer. "I think things will work out," she said, acutely aware that she only half-believed it, herself.

Angela smiled slightly. "I wish you could go tell your earlier self that. You yelled at _Ambrose_. How does that feel now?"

Moira groaned. "I don't think I'll ever be able to look him in the eye again. Don't get me wrong: I stand by everything I said, but I can't believe I yelled at the headmaster. Easily top ten mortifying moments."

Quiet laughter from both girls filled the room.

"Hey Moi?" Angela asked again.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to miss you."

"You know I'm coming with you, right?"

"No."

"Yes."

"Moira, no."

"Angela, yes. You can't stop me. Even if I get stopped from going with you tonight, I'll just make my way to Mooshu some other time. I'll come find you, whether you like it or not."

It was Angela's turn to groan. "Moira," she whined, drawing out the second syllable. "I don't need you around _all_ the time."

"Yeah," Moira replied, giving Angela's shoulder another squeeze, "but I need you."

Angela let out another weak chuckle, but it wasn't long before the room fell silent once more. After a few moments, Moira said quietly, "I really do need you, Ange."

But the theurgist was already asleep, snoring quietly. Moira smiled down at her, maneuvered the girl so she was laying down, and joined her in slumber.

* * *

That evening, after several teary breakdowns (mostly by Moira) and one yelling session (by Moira's parents, given that she had forgotten to inform them of the situation until it was too late for them to make their way back to say goodbye to Angela), the two girls headed into the World Tree, Angela flanked by guards and Moira trailing as close as they would let her.

"Moira, I already said goodbye," Angela called back, her voice still quiet and weak. "No offense, but what are you doing here?"

"I told you: I'm coming with you. I don't care if I have to become a monk or whatever. I am coming with you."

Angela protested once again, but Moira had already made up her mind, and she slipped a hand into her pocket, feeling for a small slip of paper. Grace had destroyed the written spell, but not the pronunciation guide Laura had written out. If Angela was going to continue getting weaker, Moira would do the spell for as long as she had to.

Once inside the tree, Moira chattered to Angela about nothing in particular, but trailed off as she realized the theurgist was no longer listening to her. In fact, she was no longer listening to anyone. As a guard lectured Angela on her journey, Angela stood silent, gazing intently at a spot in the bark wall.

"You will be greeted in the Jade Palace by a monk from their order, who will then lead you to—Hey!" The guard interrupted himself as Angela ducked around him, scampering over to the wall.

"Get back here!" another guard yelled, adding in a whisper to the others, "Seize her."

"No!" Angela said, holding out her hand while she stayed pressed against the wall. "No, it's okay. I'm not running. There's something… something here… I can't quite… Moira? Moira, can you feel it?"

Casting a cautious glance at the guards, Moira moved closer. "Ange," she said with a nervous chuckle, "what are you on about? What kind of plan is this?"

"It's not a plan," she snapped back. "Don't you feel it? The disturbance?" The look in her eyes was frantic and frazzled, and Moira took a step back.

"No, I don't. Just calm down; it's okay to be scared."

"I am not joking. I am not crazy. There is something here—it's a—it's some force or something—that wasn't here before."

"The guards can report it to the headmaster; it'll be fine. Don't anger the people who are holding your only supplies." Moira was suddenly aware of all the other wizards in the chamber staring at them, and wanted nothing more than to tell them all to mind their own business.

Suddenly, Angela reached out and snatched Moira's hand into her own, pressing it against the bark. She closed her eyes and asked again, in a gentler voice, "Can't you feel it?"

As the last syllable left Angela's tongue, Moira gasped as she felt a strange energy run through her. She tugged at her arm, but her hand was locked firmly in Angela's grip, which certainly did not match in strength to the gaunt girl it belonged to.

"What," she breathed, "is that?"

"You want to know, too, don't you? Are you really content just reporting this to Ambrose?"

Opening her mouth to speak, Moira found herself breathless, and simply gaped like a fish. Gasping for air, she tried again. "Please, let me go."

Angela dropped Moira's hand instantly, a look of surprise written across her face. "Are you okay? What's wrong, Moi?"

"That energy," she said, pausing for breath. "It feels like death. How are you not reacting to it?"

"No, no, no, that doesn't feel like death; it feels like life. Death doesn't have energy; you can't feel it. But this wall is brimming with the energy of life. Too much life. But why?"

She pulled back from the wall, grabbing Moira's wand. Moira tried to reach for it, but Angela was already touching the tip to the wall, her eyes glowing with magic.

And all at once, the room filled with a high ringing, causing everyone to cover their ears. When they looked back at the wall, a crack had formed in the bark. Before anyone else could react, Angela was already reaching out. As soon as her fingertips brushed against the edge of the crack, she disappeared. For a moment, everything was silent. The humming stopped, the air seemed to still, and everyone in the room stood frozen. Then, just as suddenly as before, the room exploded with white light, and, when it cleared, there was no longer a crack in the wall.

Instead, a gaping hole with blackened edges took its place, seeming to have eaten away at the tree's bark. Faintly, Moira could hear the screams of the other wizards in the spiral chamber, and while she was aware of how dangerous the hole likely was, she found herself moving closer to it. For a few seconds, she stood perched at the edge, peering out into the blackness. Then, she whispered to herself, "I need her," and stepped forward.


	8. Stars

The first thing Moira noticed was that the world was on fire. The second, that the world as not on fire, rather, she was. The third that she was not on fire either, but maybe lighting herself on fire would distract her from the pain.

Everything hurt. Her head pounded out the seconds, keeping time as her nerves screamed at her. She tried to open her eyes, but even such a small movement caused a fresh wave of pain to shoot through her aching head.

"Moira?"

A voice was calling to her. Where was it? Where was she? _Am I dying?_ she wondered.

"Moira!"

The voice sounded distant—pained, almost—was its owner dying? Who was its owner?

"Moira, I swear to… something… answer me."

 _Oh_. Ignoring the pain and forcing the words past the thickness in her throat, Moira replied, "Shut. Up. Ange."

"There you go. Why did you follow me?"

"Wha—?"

"Moira, I know it hurts, and I'm sorry, but I need you to tell me why you followed me. You aren't one for blind adventure—what gives?"

"Ange, stop, please."

"I can't help you if you don't stay with me. Just talk."

"Am I dying?"

A pause.

"No, no, Moi, uh, you'll be fine… I just need you to talk to me."

"Oh my stars, I'm dying."

"Shut up. You're not dying."

"Because you just fell out of the sky. What did you expect, a scratch?"

Moira tried again to open her eyes and succeeded, only to immediately squint. The bright blue sky surrounded her friend's head, light dancing off her hair in a sort of halo. _Bright sky? Wasn't it evening?_ She cleared her throat. "How long was I out?"

"Couple minutes, maybe. I'm not sure you were ever entirely out… you were probably just dazed more than anything."

"But then… why is it light out?"

Angela smiled slightly. _Is she having fun with this?_ "Now," she said, raising her eyebrows and glancing up at the sky herself, "that's the real question, isn't it?"

"So…"

"So, I don't know, but at least we're on the same page."

As their conversation continued, Moira could feel healing magic flooding over her, and relaxed slightly into its warm embrace. "Why aren't you hurt?" she asked, her vision beginning to adjust to the light. She could now see that Angela, unlike herself, was virtually unharmed, save for a few scratches.

"I put up spirit armor as I fell. A lot of spells like that can be really useful outside combat. By the time I noticed you had followed me, you were almost to the ground, so the shield didn't have time to slow your fall like mine—only take the brunt of the damage. Now, how about telling me why you followed me while I fix you up?"

Moira grunted, trying to move her arm to push Angela's away. "Ange, that's a lot of power. You don't need to heal me; you're weak enough as is. See," she said, beginning her first attempt at getting up, "I'm fi—ah _—_ ah _—_ ow..." She flopped back down, pain streaking up her side.

"Mm-hmm," Angela hummed. "That's believable. Now sit still and don't worry about me. Strangely enough, I feel pretty good. Maybe the adrenaline gave my mana a kickstart."

"Ange—" Moira began to protest, but abandoned the plan quickly, deciding that going toward the dark spots in her vision might be easier.

"No—hey—Moi, what did I say? You have to stay with me or you make this about ten times harder. You want me to conserve power? Do your part and stay awake. Keep talking to me. You still haven't answered my question."

Sighing—or possibly wheezing—Moira opened her eyes again and glared at Angela. "Fine."

As a green glow filled the air near Angela's hands, Moira frowned. "Can't you summon a satyr or something faster?"

Angela shook her head. "I tried. Satyrs, unicorns, pixies, even little sprites—nothing shows up. We'll just have to take the slower route. Based on your previous responses, I take it you're not going to tell me why you followed me, are you?"

Exaggerating her frown further, Moira replied, "Hmm, nah, probably not."

Angela chuckled. "Well, I can see you're feeling better already." She cracked a small smile as the green glow grew brighter. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what? Aren't you already doing it?"

"Not exactly. That's the surface injuries. You're used to that kind of healing. Internal healing, however…" she trailed off, a slight grimace on her face. "It's a bit different than what you're used to. You're still in a bit of shock right now, and that'll be the first thing to go when the magic hits, unfortunately."

"Huh?"

"It's going to get a heck of a lot worse before it gets any better," she clarified. She shrugged and let the magic envelop Moira, sinking into her. "Sorry."

Moira opened her mouth to say, 'It can't get much worse than this,' but her potential words were quickly proven wrong. Angela was right, although Moira might have used the word 'agonizing' instead of 'a lot worse'. Gasping for breath, she squeezed her eyes shut as the fire from earlier returned tenfold. Pain crept into every crevice—every layer of skin and muscle and bone—and consumed her. How could healing feel like this? She grasped for an anchor, and found Angela's voice in a faraway corner of her awareness, slicing through the pain. She focused on it, analyzing every syllable, every letter, every noise that was telling her to stay awake, and she couldn't help but scream. She didn't know for how long she screamed, but her shrieking continued until her voice gave out until the red clouds over her vision parted and she could focus on Angela's features.

"That's it, Moi! You're almost there! Just a little more, I promise!"

An empty promise, as it was, did little to reassure Moira, for she was very familiar with her friend's mind. 'A little more' to Angela did not mean the same as it did to Moira. She shut her eyes against the pain once more and felt herself slipping away.

After a moment, she forced her eyes open. No matter what Angela had said, Moira knew she couldn't let her use up too much mana. _I have to make this easy for her,_ she thought. Gritting her teeth, she gripped handfuls of the grass beneath her as her back arched. She wasn't sure whether she could hold out for much longer.

And then the pain stopped.

The agonizing fire quickly melted away into the blissful warmth normally associated with healing. Breathing deeply with relief, Moira relaxed, letting the world fade out.

* * *

When the world blinked back into existence, the first thing Moira noticed was that it was dark—very dark, in fact. She launched herself up and had to shut her eyes to cull the waves of nausea that accompanied her feather-light head.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Angela chirped from beside her.

When she had enough confidence in her ability to open her mouth without her last meal spilling down her front, Moira remarked, "You have an interesting idea of what constitutes as 'morning'," gesturing aimlessly about the world around her.

"Someone's feeling better. Come on, up and at 'em," Angela replied, hooking her arms under Moira's to help her stand. "You're the one who's always saying we have to take shelter instead of sleeping under the stars. Although, I'm not even sure if there are living creatures here… besides us and the guards, of course."

Suddenly alert, Moira snapped her eyes up to meet the other girl's. "The guards? What guards?"

"Those guards," she replied, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. In the distance, Moira could see the unmoving forms of two Wizard City guards. Angela's face dropped slightly, and she said quietly, "Well, maybe they don't quite fit into the 'living creature' category."

Moira looked back at Angela, studying the hurt on her face. "You mean..." she said weakly.

"Yeah." Angela's voice was barely above a whisper at this point. "I—there's just nothing. I tried, but they're…"

The two girls shared a moment of silence, both pairs of eyes locked onto the guards.

Moira spoke first. "Are you sure, though? Not that I doubt you… just… are you _really_ sure?"

Angela nodded. "The energy has dissipated."

Feeling tired again, Moira sat back down in the grass, motioning for Angela to join her. "Can you really tell that? You talk about energy all the time, but I thought it was just like… a vibes kind of thing."

As she sat, crossing her legs, Angela said, "It's more than vibes. It's something unique to life wizards. Everyone with theurgy aptitude has it a little, but the more you train, the more you hone in on it. I can feel energy all around us. It's something you get used to, but it can be overwhelming sometimes. Crowded areas are bursting with energy, but it's all localized into bodies. Big areas of nature—fields and forests—the energy is more spread out there. The energy of flora is more communal than that of fauna. Plants are always sort of… sharing, I guess. The energy flows freely between them, so much so that it feels like it's in the air. With creatures, the energy is compact, becoming a being rather than an essence. When I was little, I couldn't feel it like this, but now, the world seems like it'd be so empty without it. Like, when I imagine your world, it seems so closed off and alone. Being able to feel energy makes you connected with _everything_. And things that affect the nearby energy affect us as well. It's why life wizards always seem so selfless. We heal others in battle first because their pain hurts more than our own." Angela smiled, "Or, at least, that's why I do it. I can't speak for every life wizard out there."

Moira watched her friend speak, awe written across her face. To have a whole other dimension to the world…

"I didn't overload your brain, did I?" Angela asked, delivering a soft poke to Moira's forehead.

"Ah, no, I'm good. It just sounds… crazy."

"It can be."

"And that's how you knew something was wrong in the Spiral chamber? Why didn't any other theurgists in there feel it?"

"Honestly? I don't know. If I had to guess, I'd say that because I was weak and out of it, my sense of energy was heightened since my consciousness was more open and vulnerable."

"Is that a thing?"

"No idea," Angela answered with a laugh. Moira joined in, and the girls were left laughing, looking up at the night sky.

Moira's laughter trickled to a stop as her face turned down in a frown and her eyebrows knitted together. "Ange, where do you think we are?"

"Well, it _looks_ like Mooshu, but…"

"There aren't any stars."

"No," Angela agreed, her face joining Moira's in a frown. "There aren't."

Angela leaned her head against Moira's shoulder, and the two sat silently, looking into the pitch black sky.


	9. Presence

Moira wasn't sure if she had fallen asleep or not. She hadn't moved from her hunched sitting position, but the inky black sky seemed to be showing the faintest tinge of blue, and Angela's soft snores were drifting from her shoulder, which had gone numb from the pressure of the girl's head. Shaking her head to try to bring herself into full alertness, Moira lightly shoved Angela, pushing her sleeping form off her shoulder to wake her up.

Rather than jolting awake like Moira expected, Angela flopped down to the grass, her head lolling to the side. Moira's eyes widened, and she leaned over her friend, panic racing through her mind.

"Ange?" she called, her hands gripping the theurgist's shoulders. "Ange, wake up!" She shook the girl lightly, her fingers digging into the scratchy fabric of her robe.

Angela's eyes blinked open and Moira let out a long sigh as she sat back on her heels. "Moira?" she murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You scared me, Ange. I thought…"

"I told you, I'm fine."

Her statement was quickly contradicted by a fit of hacking coughs that left her gasping for breath, Moira's hand rubbing circles on her back.

When she could finally speak again, she muttered, "Would you believe me if I told you it was allergies?"

Moira, conflicted by worry and annoyance, barely restrained herself from smacking the girl upside the head. "We need to get you help."

"From who?"

Moira faltered. "We, uh, we have to find the monks, right? Cave of Solitude, the headmaster said? It looks like we might be near Shoshun Village… maybe…"

"I thought it was pretty established by now that we are definitely not in Mooshu," Angela pointed out, pounding once on her chest and clearing her throat.

"Where else could we be? Do you know anywhere else in the Spiral that looks like this?"

"No, but what if…" Angela trailed off, seeming to consider her next words carefully. "What if we aren't in the Spiral anymore?"

This time, Moira did smack the theurgist, illness be damned. "Oh, yeah, sure, we've just left the universe."

"I don't know, Moi! It was just an idea!"

"Well, it's not like I know either!"

Silence fell between the two girls, quickly broken by a sigh.

"I'm sorry," Moira said. "It's just… I'm so confused. First we fall out of the sky, and now there aren't any stars, and doesn't it seem like night is too short? It's already getting light again, but do you see a sun anywhere? Did you see a moon anywhere last night? What in the name of Bartleby is going on?"

"I'm as confused as you," Angela admitted, a helpless look crossing her face.

"And what about you? You were strong enough to heal me but just now you were about to cough up a lung! Are you getting better or worse? And why?" Moira fretted, her fingers tangling themselves in her hair.

Her whole body slowed to a stop when Angela put her hands on her shoulders. "I don't know, Moira. Sometimes we just have to accept that we don't know things. But sitting here won't give us answers, will it?"

"No," Moira replied quietly, unsure of whether the question was rhetorical or not.

"No," Angela agreed, "it won't, so we need to do something-go somewhere-right?"

For lack of a better response, Moira nodded.

Angela stood up, brushing herself off, and offered a hand to Moira. "Well, c'mon then."

They walked toward the horizon, where the outline of a small village was just visible against the brightening sky. Neither girl looked back, unwilling to lay eyes on the motionless forms of the guards again. At one point, it occurred to Moira that she hadn't attempted to simply teleport back to her house-or the Jade Palace, if they were, in fact, in Mooshu-and she stopped walking in order to focus.

"Moira?" Angela asked, stopped a few steps ahead of her. "What are you doing?"

Moira kept her eyes closed, trying to feel for the thread of direction that tied her to those anchor points, but she came up with nothing. The thread seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Opening her eyes, she shook her head and caught up with Angela. "Nothing," she said as she brushed past. She flinched from the brief contact of skin on skin where their hands had met, and turned back in worry. "Ange?"

The theurgist looked at her, genuine curiosity written across her face. "Yeah?"

"You're freezing."

Angela's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and then she let out a short laugh. "We can't all be as warm-blooded as a pyromancer."

Moira stepped close again, gripping Angela's hand between her own and shuddering at the coolness that seeped into her. "No, you're not cold: you're freezing. Can't you feel it?"

Eyes wide, Angela shook her head, a frown settling across her features again. "No. If anything, I'm a little warm, actually."

Moira bit her lip, contemplating whether or not to push the subject further. In the end, she dropped Angela's hand and took a few steps back, turning toward the line of bamboo trees. She didn't say anything, but she hadn't needed to, as Angela followed suit, falling into step behind her. They walked in silence for a long time, but it was far from the comfortable silence they were used to. The last two days had been nothing but tension for Moira, both from anxiety while Angela was asleep and awkwardness when she was awake. Moira was afraid, she realized, but not for the reasons she should be. Yes, ending up in a strange place was scary, and yes, the idea that Angela could still be dying by the second was scary, but those fears had settled into the back of her mind-an almost comfortable presence rather than a nagging thought. The fear at the front of her mind was brought on by the awkward tension between the two girls.

They were never particularly awkward around each other, even when they had only just met. Despite not knowing her name, Moira had only ever been enthusiastic and bubbly around Angela, playing up the friendly side of her personality to seem welcoming. As time wore on and the girls had grown closer, however, the title of 'sunshine', so to speak, was shifted to Angela and her relentless audacity, and Moira easily fell back into her subdued and studious nature. There was hardly silence between them; even in situations where there should have been, the lack of words had been compensated with looks and gestures, much to the chagrin of their superiors. And, if ever there was true silence, not punctuated by communication of any sort, it was never anything but a cozy break from contact: a comforting pause wherein neither had to speak to know the other was thinking about them. It was not a silence neither knew what to say but a silence where they knew neither had to say anything.

The silence now, however, was suffocating. Moira could feel it edging into her nerves, prickling against her skin, and settling in her stomach. She didn't know what to say, she didn't know what to say, dear stars above _what could she say?_

In the end, she said nothing, letting the silence live on until they came to the edge of a dirt road.

"Where is everyone?" Angela asked, looking up and down the road, her face scrunching up.

Moira thought back to Angela's earlier words, frowning. "Should there be anyone? I thought you said we were the only creatures here."

"I thought we were, but now there's energy everywhere, and it's not like the usual nature energy… It's not spread out. It's all around, like there should be people here, like I could reach out and…" the theurgist trailed off, extending one hand in front of her, only to close her fist around the air. "Touch them," she finished, a defeated tone creeping into her voice.

"There's no one there," Moira stated simply, dumbfounded by Angela's actions.

Turning with a glare that was far less intimidating than it was likely meant to be, Angela retorted, "Yeah, I kinda got that."

Picking up on the hint of melancholy behind the bitten out words, Moira breathed deeply, pushing her own fear and disappointment further down. "C'mon," she said, taking Angela's hand lightly in her own and pulling forwards as she walked. "Let's keep going."

At scattered intervals throughout their trek, Angela would flinch, whipping her head around and searching for something that was inevitably not there. Each time she would roll her neck and readjust her shoulders, squirming in an attempt to shake off Moira's glances and, the pyromancer assumed, the feeling of being surrounded. Angela's explanation of life energy had been shocking to Moira, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it began to make.

Angela had always had a penchant for knowing when someone was approaching; the girl was virtually impossible to startle or catch by surprise, much to the disappointment of Moira's playful side. But, Moira remembered, it had come in handy as well: Angela's sixth sense allowed them plenty of time to cover their tracks before Moira's parents or a teacher came across them and their innocent expressions, making them the perfect partners in crime. Or, near-perfect, given that Angela generally took both the role of lookout and perpetrator, since Moira's conscience refused to let her enjoy the acts of mischief in the careless way the theurgist did.

* * *

 _"Moi," the girl whined, tugging at her braids as she swayed playfully, a pout tugging at her lips. "We won't get caught, I promise!"_

 _"Ange," Moira replied in an equally whiny tone. "I can't just… I'm not going to…" She sputtered, her words failing her._

 _"We're just going to wrap some houses in vines, it's not like it's permanent! I'll even leave the doors and windows uncovered."_

 _"Why do you need me for this? I-I've got a test to study for and-"_

 _"Oh, like you don't already know everything that's on the test. Come on, Moi! You know I need my partner-in-crime!"_

 _"I'm not going to participate in crime!"_

 _"My partner-in-totally-legal-mischief?"_

 _Moira smacked the theurgist lightly across the arm. Later, though not that she would ever admit it, watching Angela wrap the houses of Triton Avenue in plant life had been an exciting adrenaline rush._

* * *

As the two girls entered the small marketplace of the Jade Palace, both worn out by their walk from what had actually been Hametsu Village-not Shoshun, as Moira had thought, but, hey, she'd only been to Mooshu once on vacation about ten years earlier, so the fact that she knew any village names was pretty impressive, she thought-Angela's face seemed to fall further. At Moira's questioning look, she sighed.

"I don't know why I thought it'd be any different here. There's no one, just like everywhere else."

Moira pursed her lips, glancing around the area. Marketplace stalls were still set up, small flags and signs fluttering in the soft breeze. Small stacks of gold were spread haphazardly across the counters, as though abandoned mid-payment. It was almost like life had been carrying on as usual when everyone vanished, seemingly in an instant.

Moira tore her gaze away from the abandoned carts, forcing her mind back to the situation at hand and trying to pretend she didn't notice Angela's labored breathing and hunched posture beside her. For someone who devoted their life to studying the magic of helping others, she seemed to never care about getting help for herself, getting defensive and embarrassed when she showed signs of weakness, no matter how many times Moira assured her it wasn't anything to be ashamed of.

"So, you know which way the Cave of Solitude is, right?" Moira finally asked.

Angela looked up at her with an empty expression. "Yeah, but what's the point? No one will be there, either."

Moira breathed a sigh, her heart twinging at the sight of her friend so defeated. "Well, maybe this was all some weird fluke, yeah? We've got to warn people about what happened in Mooshu. Where's the Spiral Door again? It's that building, right?" Moira pointed down the road as she spoke, trying to keep her voice light and upbeat.

Angela followed her finger, the blank look still plastered to her face. "Could it really be that simple?" she said, her voice almost a whisper.

"Why not?" Moira chirped, painfully aware of the role reversal from their childhood. She'd only ever had to be the cheerful, optimistic one once before: when she'd been coaxing Angela out of her castle after the disastrous visit to Celestia.

The theurgist's head cocked to the side, a look of curiosity ghosting over her features, but she didn't speak.

Moira continued, subtly nudging the girl forward with a hand in her back as she spoke. "I mean, there's no reason the Spiral Door shouldn't work, right? So we got here by falling out of the sky-you did that and the world didn't fall apart or anything." She babbled on, spewing words that she didn't fully believe, her attention on the shrinking distance between them and the building ahead. "Sure, some weird stuff is happening, but weird stuff happens all the time in the Spiral. Maybe we're on the road to discovering the next big bad! Or maybe it has something to do with whatever is going down in Polaris… who knows! But I know one thing: anytime there's something wild going on, there's always refuge to seek in other worlds. The Spiral Door is always open, ready to lead us to adventure!" She internally cringed at how much she sounded like some motivational speaker, but couldn't bring herself to stop until they had reached the door.

When they finally did, Moira let herself breathe, though she did not remove her hand from Angela's back. Taking advantage of the theurgist's state of confusion, Moira turned to her, placing a hand on each of her shoulders and sliding the door open with her foot as she led her inside. Once she had pulled the door shut behind them, she released Angela, feeling mostly confident that the girl wouldn't bolt away.

It was darker in the Spiral Chamber than she'd expected, she noticed as she searched Angela's face for signs of emergence from the mood. It was light outside, and she was sure the place had had windows the last time she was here, but the area in her periphery was pitch black, only a soft glow illuminating her friend's face. Angela let out a soft gasp, and Moira suddenly noticed that the girl's eyes were not staring blankly ahead but rather over her shoulder.

As she breathed a sigh of relief at Angela's coherence, Moira's mind began processing everything she'd taken in, and she turned around slowly, following Angela's gaze.

"That's not the Spiral Door," she said simply, unable to form an intelligent thought as she gaped at the enormous crystal cluster at the center of the otherwise black room.


End file.
